Beyond the Solitude
by SwitzDandelion
Summary: When Merlin fails to show up to work one morning, Arthur is left trying to solve the mystery of what happened; meanwhile, Merlin's faith and endurance are tested as he is thrust into a perilous situation. Both POVs, no outright slash, vague Merlin whump. T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello everybody, and happy New Year! I said I would have this posted before 2014, and I realize that this is slightly past that point (at least over here), but only just. Well, here's the first part of my new story. I've got most of it already written, and I plan on having six parts, so updates should be fairly regular, probably once a week or so. Anyway, I hope it's alright!**

**DISCLAIMER: IWIOMBIDN (I wish I owned Merlin but I do not)**

* * *

**Beyond the Solitude**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

_Crash_.

Arthur looks up from his papers in exasperation, all but glaring at his clumsy manservant. Merlin, who is already busy picking up the items he knocked off the table, does not notice, but still gives a hasty 'sorry, sorry' as he scrambles about. When he finally stands up and replaces everything to its proper position, Arthur expects him to turn and grin at the prince's predictable annoyance, to purposely wait for the insult that would surely come and then use the opportunity to make some witty remark in return, as is usual in these situations. Instead, he watches in slight surprise as the boy barely even acknowledges the prince before continuing in his chores, going straight to the laundry pile to gather his master's soiled clothes. Something about the servant is off, Arthur thinks to himself, though he cannot say why exactly he thinks such. Perhaps it is simply the way he has seemed so distant the last few days, so distracted. Or maybe it's because he seems so eager each day to finish his chores quickly and escape. Maybe it's just because his wide, familiar smile hasn't been as frequent as normal these past few days, though when it does make an appearance, it seems nearly as genuine as always. Whatever the cause, something about Merlin's demeanor has changed, and Arthur's not quite sure if that's a good or a bad thing. He wonders if he should be worried, looking into the matter, or if it's nothing, just him imagining things and being over-sensitive to his servant. It's at times like these that he wonders if he should even bring such a thing up, or go on acting like the king he is, the royal who does not pay such detailed attention to the habits of his manservant.

But as Merlin leaves the room, the moment to speak and to wonder is gone, and he goes back to his papers and reports. Eventually, with his mind swimming in words and maps and taxes and court matters, any worries or thoughts of his friend drift from his mind. He is not reminded of them until that night, when Merlin does not show up with his dinner; although what was only a small seed of worry before has now grown to something more, he decides against his better judgment to leave the matter be, at least for the moment. _Whatever is eating at the man_, Arthur thinks, _he's probably better off dealing with it alone_. All the same, he resolves to talk to Merlin about it the next day over breakfast, to get to the bottom of this. Because he'll be damned if he has to spend another day pretending he doesn't care about the well-being of his manservant or his personal matters. With that resolve in mind, he puts himself to bed and allows his mind to remove the matter from his thoughts, if only temporarily. He falls asleep fairly peacefully, and sleeps well. At least until he wakes up very late the next day, wondering why he wasn't woken earlier. _Merlin must have slept in_, he thinks, seeing the sun streaming through his curtains. _The idiot can't even do his… his…_ and then he remembers, the strangeness of his manservant, the distraction, the extra clumsiness, and then his absence last night, and now this morning as well. Starting to feel rather concerned, he gets himself relatively dressed and heads out, going to check the physician's chambers only to find that Gaius is out in a nearby town and will be back later that day. Merlin must be with his mentor, Arthur reasons, and that's the only reason he's out. Feeling rather better but still slightly bothered by it all, he heads off to the training field to make sure he isn't late for the day's activities.

When he arrives in the armory only slightly belatedly, the only knight to call him out is Sir Gwaine. "Oi, princess, I understand you need your beauty sleep to maintain your lovely looks, but this really has got to stop before you start setting an example for some of our younger knights."

Only faintly amused, Arthur gives him a withering look. "It's not me who enjoys the extra sleep. Take your case to Merlin, it's his fault I wasn't up when I was supposed to be."

At this, Gwaine's joking manner falls slightly. "Oh yeah, I noticed he seemed a bit preoccupied lately. Have you been giving him extra chores again?"

"Actually, I haven't given him much at all to do this week, other than the standard things. Yet he still seemed eager to get them finished quickly so he could run off to God knows where." It only reawakens the worry Arthur has been feeling when he realizes that Merlin is acting oddly enough that even Gwaine noticed. "I'll talk to him when he gets back with Gaius."

Gwaine frowns faintly. "He's off with Gaius? I thought the old man went alone…" He trails off, then shrugs. "I must be fairly preoccupied myself."

As he turns to get the rest of his armor on, Arthur is left unsettled. Had Merlin actually gone out with Gaius? It's true he would normally tell Arthur beforehand, but he has been so distracted lately…

Needless to say, Arthur finds it vaguely difficult to concentrate on training that day. And the moment it is over, he goes straight to find someone who can tell him exactly when the court physician will be returning.

* * *

Merlin rubs against the ropes that bind his hands yet again, feeling rather vexed. He isn't completely sure who it is that he's angry at, his captors or himself. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_, he berates himself, _you should have seen this coming, you should have figured it out sooner, you should have been more careful, you should have been better_… On and on he goes, telling himself what he should have done differently and how he could have avoided this situation. But really he knows his "should have"s and "if only"s aren't going to change anything, that they won't magically help extract him from his current predicament. If only he could magic himself out of here, he thinks, but he only just came to consciousness and is still feeling rather weak and disoriented with a headache coming on. And even if he did, say, break his bindings and run, he would probably be caught either here in the forest or when he got back to Camelot, and he definitely does not want to risk these men finding out about his magic if there's a chance they will re-capture him. And so he is left to his own self-reprimands. They come from his lack of anything better to think about, and there seems to be no way of stemming the flow that runs continuously through his brain. So he tries to distract himself instead in any way he can, rubbing his wrists against the scratchy rope, listening to the men's conversations, trying to think of a good way out of this mess. He is only successful with one of those endeavors, and so he casually turns his head to the side so as to better hear what the two men standing by the fire pit are saying.

"... Don't know… what… boy…"

"... Just a servant… but he'd want… I guess…"

It takes Merlin a moment to realize, through the snatches of words and phrases, that the irksome men are talking about him.

"... But… the damn kid… too much trouble… conspicuous..."

As they begin to walk away from the fire pit and more towards Merlin, he finds that he can hear more.

"I think… for now we… with the rest of 'em… eh?"

They draw nearer, now purposefully in Merlin's direction, and all he can think is that this can't be good. Sure enough, without so much as an explanation, one of them grabs him roughly by the arm and drags him into a standing position, arms still tied behind his back, and begins to march him forward. Merlin, vaguely light-headed from getting up too fast, can barely react for a moment and finds that his legs simply comply with the forced walk, but soon he regains his bearings and starts to feel as though he should be acting more rebellious.

"What's happening?" He demands of the man holding him. "What are you doing with me?"

"Be glad you'll live to see tomorrow," he gruffly replies before falling silent again.

"What's so great about tomorrow? Tomorrow's a Tuesday. Tuesdays are known to be unlucky. And it looks like it might rain."

When his only response is a glare from the other man who is walking alongside them, he knows that he should really shut up, but he finds that there is something vaguely enjoyable in the other men's irritation. All the same, he decides to stay quiet for the rest of the transportation. For that's what it is, he soon discovers; having decided not to kill him yet, the two men bring him to the site a few yards outside the main camp where the two other people are kept, both similarly tied up, and then they throw him to the ground. He is left alone with only the others, an older woman and a younger girl, and a surly looking guard with a sword for company. He groans at the painful landing that probably bruised his arm, and gathers himself up off the ground as best he can while his hands are still tied behind his back. He glances up at the armed guard, who stares stoically ahead, ignoring him. Merlin sits up and turns to look at the other two captives. The young girl, probably around ten years old, seems too shy or too nervous to meet his gaze but steals quick glances now and then; the woman, probably a little older than his mother, just looks at him as though giving him a silent appraisal.

"So," he decides to try, "are we allowed to talk or is that frowned upon?"

The guard promptly comes over to kick him in the stomach. He gives a small "oof" as the air in him exhales very unexpectedly, but he recovers fairly quickly as the guard returns to his post, leaning against a tree. Sighing, Merlin prepares for a long day.

After a few minutes he realizes how much less of a chance he has to escape now; any magic he may try to use would be witnessed by the innocent people who he hopes will make it out of this situation and back home one day, innocent people who probably wouldn't blink twice about running to the king with news of a sorcerer. And not to mention this new guard is constantly watching them and would probably at least raise an alarm should Merlin try anything, if he didn't take him down himself. All in all, Merlin realizes that he might be in a worse plight than he previously thought. And that causes him to realize something else. Underneath all his bravado and his snarkiness, hidden beneath all the calmness he seems to exude, he might just have a slight twinge of worry nagging at the back of his mind.

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**A/N: Sooooooo, as usual, any thoughts, comments or criticisms are much appreciated and can only help me improve. This time I will actually try to respond to reviews when I have a chance (shocking, right?). Thank you for reading the whole thing, it really does mean the world to me! :D**

**Happy 2014!**

**- SwitzD**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi! I know this is a somewhat short chapter, but I'm afraid this isn't exactly my longest work. Enjoy it anyway, and I will post again next week.**

**DISCLAIMER: I am not among the lucky few who own Merlin.**

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**Beyond the Solitude**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Arthur sits at his desk, attempting to get some work done and failing rather incredibly. His mind is too busy impatiently waiting, trying not to think about the various scenarios he can't help but imagine Merlin getting himself into. It's all he can do to keep himself from pacing, and so the exact moment the door opens and a guard begins to step through, Arthur is already up and moving forward, barely waiting to hear the startled guard confirm Gaius is back before striding out and down the corridor. He is walking at a brisk pace which he knows might draw some attention, but he finds that he doesn't really care all that much. When he finally reaches the physician's chambers, only then does he take a moment to pause before knocking on the door and entering. As he walks in, his eyes do an automatic sweep of the room and come to the conclusion that Merlin is not present. Realizing this, he immediately addresses the unpacking physician, trying to sound fairly casual; after all, he hasn't spent the last hour or two (or ten) worrying about a manservant who didn't turn up for work.

"Gaius, I was wondering if you know where Merlin is?" He gets straight down to business, not feeling in the mood for small talk and formalities.

The physician frowns slightly at him. "No, I'm afraid I don't; I only just got back from one of the nearby villages."

"Yes, I know," Arthur says, "but I thought perhaps he had gone with you."

As the physician's eyebrow raises in confusion, Arthur finds his sense of dread increasing exponentially. "No, he did not," Gaius tells him. "Have you not seen him since I left?"

"I haven't seen him since yesterday afternoon. And he didn't leave a note or send another servant in his place or do anything that might suggest he planned on leaving."

Gaius frowns for a moment before his face pales slightly and he sits down. "Oh, no..."

"What?" Arthur demands. "What is it?"

Gaius looks up with an worried but somewhat distant expression. "Oh, Merlin..."

"_What_? What are you talking about?"

Gaius focuses back on Arthur.

"For the last few days, Merlin has been... investigating, I suppose you could call it. He didn't tell me much, said he was still trying to figure it out, but he mentioned missing people. If he's gone missing as well..."

Arthur's stomach is lead. Merlin was trying to find missing people, on his own? Who does the idiot think he is? No wonder he's been so distracted lately, if this has been on his mind! He should have just reported it, or told Arthur... The king's mind is already assessing the term "missing"; it could be kidnappers, or it could be killers, or it could be bandits, or it could be slave traders, or... or... It hit him then, the enormity of the situation.

Merlin could be dead.

"Gaius, I need you to try and think of anything else that might help."

* * *

Merlin is bored.

He has sat without moving for a day and a half now, doing nothing but sitting quietly, his only company being the daggers of the guard's eyes, his two silent companions, and his own thoughts. He continuously fails to stop himself from thinking of Camelot, wondering if his disappearance has been noted yet; for a moment, he has a horrible mental image of Arthur ignoring his absence or not even realizing he's gone. But he assures himself that he will be found, whether it is Gaius, Arthur, Gwen, or one of the knights; it would be ridiculous for all of them to ignore him, it would be impossible. He isn't exactly unnoticeable.

The problem is that his captors seem to be thinking the same. From what he can tell of the conversations within his hearing range (which is occasionally aided with some subtle magic), they have been unsure as to what to do with him. They know he's a servant, and manservant to the king no less, so they are worried that his disappearance might lead to discovery or at least investigation by someone at the castle; it went against their usually strict rule of only taking obscure people who are not directly linked to anyone of importance and will not be noticed. He is the glaring exception, the one who threatens to expose them, and they've considered killing him if only to save trouble. It's only when he "overhears" them agreeing to take him back to a main camp that he realizes they will be moving soon, most likely farther away from Camelot. Farther means harder to find. Merlin is filled with dread, watching in dismay as his already slim chances of escape grow even thinner. He racks his brain quickly, trying to decide what to do; is it worth making a break for it? He decides not. And at any rate, if he did escape now, he may never find their base location; if he goes with them, perhaps Arthur will be able to track them to the main camp when he comes looking for Merlin, though it is doubtful in this season when tracking is particularly difficult. The warlock refuses to believe Arthur won't manage to at least find this campsite.

All the same, he decides it would be best to at least try and leave some sort of clue or trail for any possible rescuers. It takes him a good hour or two of thinking before it occurs to him, and by this time preparations to leave are being made. Subtly, so as not to alert the current guard, and with his hands still tied behind his back, he starts feeling around for a small stick. Finally finding one, he grips it in one hand and does his best to quietly clear a spot on the ground of leaves and dirt, until it is mostly flat. Ever so gently, still staring in front of him so as not to attract attention, he begins to carve the firm dirt beneath his hands with the point of the stick; he takes his time, trying to make sure he gets it right despite the awkwardness of his limited hand movement, and by the time he finishes a while later feeling satisfied with both the size and depth of his work, his hands and bound wrists are aching. Still, he feels a sense of accomplishment, and allows himself a small break to rest his stiff, dirty fingers before finishing. He risks a quick glance at the guard to ensure he's still looking the other way, before dropping the twig and seizing a small, sharp rock from the ground. With barely a wince, he locates the sharpest edge of the stone and begins to press it into the palm of his hand as best he can, trying to keep his face stoic and clear of expression. It hurts more than he thought it would, but he continues to press, digging the sharp tip into his skin until finally he feels it pierce through. At this point, he fails to contain the small, brief intake of breath that escapes from his lips, drawing the unwanted attention of the guard who begins moving towards him. Hastily, Merlin tries to spread leaves around to cover up his carving; the man, noticing his movement, immediately looks behind him to see what he's doing, and finds the rock near his hands. Assuming he is trying to cut his ropes, the man flings the rock into the woods and begins hitting and kicking Merlin with a yell of outrage. Merlin grunts and tries to stay upright, bearing the harsh attack as best he can, but as the sun begins to go down, he finds that the pain is outweighed by the triumph of his handiwork going unnoticed. He bears it, because the pain is worth it.

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**A/N: As usual, any thoughts are welcome. I'm still not completely happy with this chapter, so I would love to have your opinion. This story is still being developed as well, so reader input can still have an effect. And what author doesn't like feedback? *wink wink***

**I also want to say right now that the timeline of this fic is slightly whacky. Merlin's and Arthur's parts may not always correspond perfectly, and a lot of it just skirts around specific references to the passing of time. Please try not to apply too much logic in this area, and just accept that I am not a perfect author. :)**

**Thank you all for reading and making me feel like I can actually write. :D Have some virtual pie on your way out, and have a lovely day!**

**- SwitzD**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Happy Tuesday! I don't have much to say for once so just enjoy.**

**DISCLAIMER: I'm not even a legal adult yet, of course I don't own Merlin.**

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**Beyond the Solitude**

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Arthur is convinced that something very foul is afoot in his city, and he is determined to get to the heart of it. He spends the rest of that day talking to people, trying to gain information without bringing attention to what he is doing. Being the King of Camelot, he has enough sense not to go about simply interrogating people; he is aware that anyone carrying out criminal actions would become more cautious, and it is still a definite possibility that this has been the work of malicious criminals. Because of this, he feels as though it would be too ostentatious to simply go out into the street and ask passing people if they've noticed any disappearances, so he decides to keep his inquiries within the castle, at least for the time being. He begins by bringing it up with some of the other knights who are finishing their afternoon training.

"Gwaine," he says upon finding the other man taking off his armor, "I need to talk to you."

"Back again, are we?" Gwaine replies with a smile. "You were in quite a rush to leave the other day."

"Yes, well, I've been busy," Arthur replies vaguely. "I wanted to ask, what was it you were saying the other morning about Merlin?"

Obviously, this is not what Gwaine was expecting him to say. "What, you mean about his mood recently?"

"Yes."

Gwaine still seems vaguely bemused, but takes it in his stride. "It just seemed to me as though he's been bothered about something lately, I guess. And he seemed a little tired, although that's not particularly new. Didn't stop him from going with me to the tavern when I asked him to the other night. Actually, he doesn't usually go with me unless I make him, but he seemed pretty eager this time. And then I don't think he even drank very much… ended up having to help me get back home, if I remember right. I wasn't too lucid at the time."

Arthur takes this information and turns it over in his head. "Thanks," he says somewhat absentmindedly, before telling the knight to get some rest and leaving, ignoring Gwaine's somewhat confused look at his apparent lack of concern over the drinking.

He wanders the halls, occasionally asking guards if they've seen Merlin recently; none of them have much information, and it's with frustration that he begins to realize how difficult this might actually be. Eventually, he manages to find some passing servants to talk to, and it's one of them that points him towards the kitchens; apparently, Merlin has been spending more time down there than usual, and he decides it's better than nothing to go on.

Upon reaching the busy entryway, Arthur pauses, realizing how unfamiliar he is with this part of the castle and the people who frequent it; other than a few odd servants he recalls from many banquets and dinners with court nobles, he finds that he does not recognize the majority of the castle staff present, a fact which he is slightly ashamed of. Trying to maintain his kingly composure regardless, he begins to make his way farther into the room, playing immune to the sudden decrease in conversation and staring faces surrounding him. The head cook, however, is obviously not immune, and comes trotting over as soon as she feels the change in the room's atmosphere. The stout woman, being somewhat familiar with Arthur, beckons him to follow her away from the crowd and toward a quieter side of the extensive kitchen where only a few people are working. Attempting yet again to seem like the king he is despite the strangeness of his errand, he proceeds to inquire as to when she last saw Merlin.

"The boy?" she repeats. "I'm not sure. He seems to be here all the time lately, but I haven't seen him since… oh, it must have been two days ago, in the morning. Does that sound right, Minna?" She turns to confirm with a nearby kitchen servant, a young woman who is wiping a bowl clean with a cloth. The girl, Minna, jumps and looks up very suddenly with something close to panic on her face, startled at being addressed as her face turns red.

"Y-yeah, I, um, I guess so. I, I mean, um, yes, could've been. I think." Looking vaguely sick, she excuses herself, drops the bowl, and leaves. The cook, noticing Arthur's taken aback look, shakes her head and apologizes.

"Some of these young people seem to get a bad case of nerves whenever there's royalty around, and Minna hasn't been feeling right lately as it is. Don't let it get to you."

Arthur nods, still somewhat bemused, and asks a few more questions. The cook, however, is usually too busy to pay much attention to what everyone around her is doing, so she doesn't know much else about what Merlin has been up to. Feeling disappointed that his one possible lead hasn't helped much, he thanks the cook and leaves, still ignoring the stares he can feel on his back and the hushed whispers barely within hearing as he leaves.

Returning to his chambers that evening, Arthur dejectedly sits at his desk, remembering how only a few days ago he was sitting right here talking to Merlin, just like usual with nothing out of place. Well, almost nothing. Arthur refuses to allow himself to wonder if it was his fault that Merlin's gone, that he should have talked to the manservant earlier and maybe avoided this whole awful situation. Just thinking about it gives him a slightly sick taste in his mouth; anything could have happened to Merlin, and he's just sitting here being useless, giving up after talking to only a few people. He should be going back out, finding new people to talk to, searching for more clues. The trouble is, he feels like he's hit a dead end, and he doesn't know where else to look.

He decides to take account of what he knows. Merlin seems to have vanished, after he was supposedly 'investigating' something, something that involves missing people. The only lead he's gotten is that Merlin has been spending some extra time in the kitchens, a fact which two people have now testified to. Well, Arthur thinks, three, if you count that kitchen girl, but she was so flustered that it's hard to tell if she meant what she said or was just agreeing from pressure of being put on the spot. Arthur sighs inwardly; he has to admit to himself that it's rather upsetting to see people reacting so badly to his presence. He doesn't remember getting quite as bad a reception when he was prince, so why should it be any different just because he's king? Sighing again, he tries to turn his thoughts back to the problem of Merlin instead of his own; but still, the way that girl had seemed so terrified is stuck in his mind. It was incredibly disconcerting. She had seemed so terrified; he has to wonder, does his mere presence really have that kind of effect on people? But it was more than that, he realizes. Something about her answer seemed off to him, something about it is bothering him more than as a personal matter. Something about… her…

And then it occurs to him very abruptly.

Is it possible…?

For the second time in two days, Arthur leaps out of his seat and rushes out the door of his chambers, barely waiting long enough to close it again before he's striding down the hallway, back the way he just came.

* * *

Merlin stumbles yet again, tripping over a bare root sticking out of the ground. The man holding his rope, one of the guards from earlier, turns to glare as he attempts to regain his balance, leaning briefly on a tree to support his body. His hands are still tied, making it difficult to keep up without falling, but he doesn't mind this too much considering he wants the excuse to grab on to nearby boulders and branches. Every few minutes, he curls up the fingers of one hand to press against the new cut he made on his palm; he does his best to insure it remains open and wet without causing him too much blood loss, a task which also is handy for distraction, something of which he is currently in desperate need of.

It's not the pain he's feeling, nor worry for where they're going that he wants to be distracted from, but rather the thoughts of his friends. It's the slowly diminishing triumph in his chest, the confidence that he will be found and rescued by Arthur or the knights and his clue will help lead them. He had thought his clue fairly useful and clever at the time, considering how little he had to work with, and for a while he had been brimming with faith that Arthur, or anyone searching, would eventually be led to him. He had been full of expectancy, though he knew it was foolish, watching for signs of anyone coming nearby, some sort of knight or search party making a grand entrance and helping fight these men at any minute. But alas, after two full days (or so he thinks, depending on how long he was unconscious), there is no sign that anyone is nearby, forget about preparing to ambush. Too soon, he tells himself, just be patient and they will eventually find you. His confidence in Arthur, however, began dwindling after a few hours of walking through dense, uncharted forest areas, and he is becoming worried. What if they didn't find the clue? What if they didn't even make it to the campsite? What if they don't find me? He clings on to his remaining hope as best he can, and in the meantime he concentrates on making himself trip just the right amount, so it won't be apparent that he's faking many of his falls.

Eventually they arrive at the camp, and Merlin has a moment to take in everything he can about the place before he is roughly dragged away with the other two women to, yet again, a holding area somewhat separated from the rest of the camp. This one, however, seems a bit more permanent and has some sort of cages, looking like large crates made from a combination of wooden panels, branches, and metal bars. He briefly sees a few other people in other cages before he is thrown into one himself. He hears the young girl who arrived with him shrieking, before she is slapped and throw into a cage a few meters away, while the older woman is put in one next to his. They seem to be have been made purposefully small, as though the architect intended for them to make movement difficult; Merlin can barely stand once inside, and finds that he cannot fully stretch his arms out. The men who were leading them latch the doors and leave altogether, surprising Merlin; apparently they trust these cages enough that they don't feel the need for a constant guard.

Once the men are all out of range, Merlin turns and tries to look at the other people who share his predicament in the quickly diminishing daylight. Besides the two who came with him, he sees another even younger girl, an old man, and a young boy. He calls out softly to the boy, whose cage happens to be within a few feet of his own, until the boy notices and lifts his head cautiously to look.

"Aron?" Merlin asks softly, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention from their captors. Seeing the boy tense slightly upon hearing the name but give no other reaction, Merlin continues. "You're Aron, aren't you?"

After a moment, he warily nods, but still makes no verbal reply.

"Are you alright?"

The boys seems slightly taken aback at this question, and it's another moment before he hesitantly nods his head.

"I… I'm sorry," he says in a very small, hoarse voice, "do I know you?"

Merlin gives him a small smile. "I'm here to rescue you." At the completely blank look upon Aron's face, Merlin clarifies. "Well, I was supposed to help rescue you, but as you can see, that didn't go too well. I started trying to find you when-"

At this point, Merlin cuts off, hearing one of the other prisoners shush him quickly. Two men are making their way over, and Merlin watches as the young girls shrink away from the front of the cages. The men, however, only seem interested in one particular person. As they come up to his cage, Merlin recognizes one as his previous guard, but the other is unfamiliar; he does, however, have an air of importance about him, something about the way he walks, that exudes confidence. They tower above the cages, the stranger staring at Merlin while the other murmurs to him.

"This is 'im. We wasn't sure, so we decided to just bring 'im here."

The stranger merely nods, still staring at Merlin, who stares right back, undaunted. After a moment, the stranger simply turns and begins to walk back, the other man immediately following behind. Once they're gone, Merlin turns back to continue talking to Aron, only to find that the boy is curled up and hugging his knees, his eyes wide with fear.

"Aron…?" Merlin calls out softly, watching as the boy turns again to look at him, the fear only somewhat diminishing. "How long have you been here?"

The boy swallows before answering quietly. "Almost a week."

Merlin just watches him sadly as Aron takes a deep breath. He can't be more than nine or ten years old judging by his looks, and this must be quite a terrifying ordeal for him. "Listen," Merlin tells him, "you will make it out of here, safely. I promise. Even this very moment, I'm sure there are people looking for you, people who are smarter than me and won't get caught. People from Camelot. Maybe even knights, if we're lucky, although some of them are even more stupid than me."

This coaxes a small smile out of the boy, but it falls again almost immediately. "How do you know? No one has come yet."

"I came," Merlin reminds him. "I admit it wasn't how I expected, but I found you, didn't I? And I know they'll come because I know them. Who knows, maybe even the king himself will come."

Aron snorts at such a crazy idea, but he is noticeably feeling better, with the fear being slowly replaced by a tentative hope. He smiles briefly, before lying down to sleep for the night. Merlin copies him, his confident smile falling into a weary face as he turns away. If only it were so easy to convince _himself_, he thinks bitterly.

* * *

**A/N: And so the plot thickens! ...Slightly. And I leave you with another somewhat-dramatic cliffhanger and your own speculations. The next chapter should be posted same time next week. As ever, thanks a million for reading!**

**- SwitzD**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm still not completely happy with this chapter, but oh well.**

**DISCLAIMER: I'm American, of course I don't own Merlin.**

* * *

**Beyond the Solitude**

**Chapter 4**

* * *

Arthur walks out of the kitchens with a frustrated but determined look on his face. He didn't find what he was looking for, but this only further proves the plausibility of his previous theory. It's true, he had his doubts earlier, but now that she's gone, his mind is only becoming more sure as he walks.

It had partly occurred to him in relation to the missing people. He had heard nothing of this disturbing problem until Gaius had mentioned it, and even now he does not seem able to find any news or reports. That's what had bothered him; normally, when someone goes missing, their family and friends report it immediately, which leaves two possible scenarios for this situation. Either Merlin was mistaken or incorrect (or Gaius is getting old and losing his hearing), or there actually are absent people but their disappearances aren't being reported. That's what had originally stumped Arthur, until it suddenly occurred to him why he wouldn't be told: because those people who knew had been threatened into hiding the information. Arthur couldn't think of another possibility that fit, and so he had decided that this must be the case.

The second part of his realization came while he was thinking about what happened in the kitchens earlier that afternoon. It had bothered him that the girl was so flustered and upset, and not without good reason. Because after replaying the scene in his head, he had realized exactly what is was he missed.

As soon the cook said her name, she had jumped, looking panicked and uncomfortable.

_"Y-yeah, I, um, I guess so. I, I mean, um, yes, could've been. I think."_

She had looked sick, but not in a nervous, self-conscious way, but rather in a disturbed way. That's what had bugged him; she didn't have the usual 'don't do anything embarrassing or stupid' expression, but more of a terrified, distressed look about her. And then she had fled, which is not how one acts when trying to impress royalty; she had simply wanted to escape.

_"Minna hasn't been feeling right lately."_

The cook's words had seemed innocent enough at the time, but combined with the girl's strange look and sudden flight, he had grown suspicious. And the more he thought about it, the more sure he was that there was more to her distress than they originally thought. She hadn't seemed that terrified until Merlin was mentioned, and then she had jumped nearly a foot into the air. It would make sense that she hasn't been feeling right lately, if she's been involved in this whole affair.

However, upon reaching the kitchens and yet again ignoring all the stares, he found that she still had not returned and that no one really seemed to know where she was. It is a disgruntled Arthur who now finds himself wandering the halls _yet again_, asking guards and servants if they've seen the girl. He has little luck, _again_, and decides that whenever he finds Merlin, he's going to give him extra chores for a whole week for all the trouble he's caused. Finally, when he's about ready to give up and wait for her to just show up tomorrow, a boy comes running up to him; apparently the cook sent him to tell Arthur that another servant reported seeing her. According to the boy, she was heard crying in a hall on the edge of the castle. After thanking him, Arthur sets off at a brisk pace, wanting to find her before she decides to go home for the night.

He reaches the corridor but pauses before turning the corner; he doesn't want to frighten her off immediately. Taking a deep breath, he slowly and quietly steps out, his eyes instantly finding her sitting against the wall, hugging her knees. Her head is buried in her arms, so she doesn't notice him at first. Softly, he takes a step forward and speaks tentatively.

"Minna?"

Her head lifts, and in the blink of an eye she is scrambling up and turning towards the door at the other end of the hallway.

"Wait!" Arthur calls, cursing inwardly, unsure whether to run after her or not. "I just want to talk!"

She hesitates, turning to glance at him, worry evident in her eyes.

"What about?" She says after a moment, still poised to run.

"The people going missing."

This startles her, as she freezes with a surprised look on her face. After a second, she glances around to see if anyone else is nearby; seeing no one, she turns back to Arthur, but doesn't say anything for a moment.

Arthur decides to break the silence. "I just want to-"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she says, cutting him off. He notices the set line of her jaw, however, and the mask over her eyes.

"I think you do," he says, seeing a twinge of distress appear in her eyes before they close off again. After a moment, when still she fails to respond, he continues. "And I think you know about Merlin."

She just stares at him for another minute before she suddenly starts crying and slumps back against the wall, sliding down until she's sitting again.. Arthur, feeling slightly awkward, moves closer, but still gives her space so she doesn't feel uncomfortable. He waits for her to calm down a bit, then crouches down to her current level.

"I-It's all my f-fault," she says in despair, tears running down her cheeks. "He wasn't supposed to f-find out, but he did, and then he said he would h-help but I warned him not too, and I begged him, but he just t-told me he'd be fine and not to w-worry any more and now he's gone and-"

"Slow down," Arthur cuts in, ending her blubbering, "No one is blaming you for anything. And knowing Merlin, if he really wanted to help, then there was no stopping him anyway."

She sniffs but doesn't look up. After a moment, when she seems slightly more composed, he prompts her. "So, what was it that Merlin found out?"

"My brother," she whispers. "He's g-gone."

It was true, then. "Gone, as in…?"

"Taken," she clarifies. "For ransom. We were threatened n-not to tell anyone or else he would be hurt. He's only a boy."

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely. "And Merlin wanted to help look for him?"

She nods sadly. "He insisted, he said he would get my brother back. But they have people in Camelot, spies, who watch us to tell if we've told anyone or not, and they must've found out that Merlin was trying to find them." Even as she says this, she glances around again to make sure they are indeed alone; luckily, this part of the castle is usually empty.

Arthur's face is very sober. "I'm very sorry about your brother, and I promise we will do everything we can to get him back."

"We were just going to pay," She admits quietly. "What else are we supposed to do? It's not like it's too high of a price, but I had to wait 'til I got paid at the end of the week."

Arthur sighs. "I can pay it myself if necessary, but as I'm hoping to get Merlin back as well and there hasn't been a ransom for him that I know of, I will most likely be trying to find and rescue them anyway. So hold off on the payment."

She nods miserably, and he starts to get up before pausing and addressing her once more. "Minna, did they say how you're supposed to give them the money?"

She looks up at him with her eyes still red. "Yes. They gave us a location at which to leave it. A drop-off point in the forest."

"I need you to try and describe exactly where."

* * *

Merlin is losing hope.

Despite the various moments of doubt he has had, or unconscious thoughts of worry that sneak up on his mind, up until this point he has been fairly confident in the fact that he will be found and rescued. He trusted Arthur and the knights of the table to be able to piece together what happened; it was their job, after all, to protect people and fight crime, and although they often seem rather stupid or incompetent, he knows they're good at it. But now, after three days of absolutely nothing, he finds that he is seriously questioning whether anyone will ever come. This is not merely a twinge of doubt as before, but a grim possibility that is suddenly all too real. Merlin wonders when he lost his confidence so much; perhaps it was when he kept imagining rustling in the forest behind them, thinking there was a search party at last but only to be disappointed. Or maybe it was when he realized that prisoners were being fed nothing more than stale bread once a day. It might have been when he complained that his bladder was full again (when in reality he only wanted to stretch his legs) and they had taken him out of his cage to be kicked and beaten. Again. And now, he finds himself thinking that if Arthur was coming, he would have come already, and by now the trail must be dead.

Sometimes, he finds himself thinking that Arthur simply replaced him and continued on with life, never looking back and wondering what happened to his idiotic manservant.

He immediately tries to dismiss the idea, but it remains there, constantly nagging at him. For the first time since he was taken, he has to entertain the possibility of not escaping at all, and what would follow such a scenario. If only he'd just run when he had the chance, back when he was merely tied up in a small camp with the guard's back turned; Now, he has no chance of escape with so many dangerous men patrolling the camp and the surrounding area. But if he had left before, he may never have found Aron, and he couldn't have gone back empty-handed and face the boy's family, knowing that it was in his ability to find him. But what if neither of them ever make it out of here?

He had also heard more snippets of conversation using his magic-aided hearing. From what he can tell, some seem eager to just kill him and be done with it, then leave the body somewhere it would be found before anyone comes looking for him. The leader, the man who had earlier come to study Merlin, is a very cunning man and knows how not to get caught. He is worried that Merlin's disappearance is too conspicuous, but thinks that Merlin's death might still cause an investigation, especially after he's been gone for days. He seems to have no other good option, however, and Merlin can only watch in distress as they all start agreeing that he should just be killed.

Huddling in the back corner of his cage, fearful and exhausted, Merlin closes his eyes to stop the tears that threaten to fall.

* * *

**A/N: Again, I'm not completely happy but I didn't feel like starting over again from scratch. I'm running out of pre-written story, so updates may not be quite so punctual from this point on. I will write when I can.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**- SwitzD**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry, life is getting pretty busy around here and teachers have a terrible lack of coordination on workloads. Please excuse my absence.**

**DISCLAIMER: Given the choice of free ice cream for life or owning Merlin, I think it's obvious I would choose the latter. Unfortunately I have received neither offer.**

* * *

**Beyond the Solitude**

**Chapter 5**

* * *

"I found it!"

Arthur turns toward the source of the loud whisper, seeing Gwaine excitedly motioning him over. Rolling his eyes at the knight's undignified behaviour, Arthur makes his way through the forest toward Gwaine as Percival and Leon do the same. Gwaine has indeed located the landmark they were searching for, three round boulders of similar size sitting in a row.

"Alright," Arthur says, "if this is the dropoff point for the ransom, then they must have a camp set up nearby. Between the four of us, I'm sure we can find it soon. And be _quiet_!"

It isn't long before they find a camp, just a league or two away from the boulders. There are only a few men, who the knights dispatch fairly easily; unfortunately, the only one still conscious is less than helpful.

"Where are the people you've taken?"

"I told ye," the man growls, "I ain't saying nothin'."

Arthur holds a sword up to his neck. "I'll ask you one more time."

The man, however, does not seem overly intimidated. He shouts something rather obscene at Arthur, causing Gwaine to come over and whack him on the head with the handle of his sword. The man joins his fellow brutes in unconsciousness, and Arthur gives Gwaine an exasperated look.

"What?" Gwaine asks innocently. "The git was asking for it."

Arthur sighs and turns to survey the clearing again. There must be something, he tells himself, anything that can lead them to wherever Merlin is. No crime is perfect, there's always something…

Glancing around, though, Arthur realizes that whoever is orchestrating this whole scheme is more cunning than the average criminal. There's barely anything noticeable to lead them, nothing but an empty campsite.

"Look around," Arthur instructs the other knights. "If they're not keeping them here, then they must have another camp or some other area set up. We should at least be able to find some tracks in the surrounding area. Let's split up and search, we can cover more area that way."

A while later, Arthur is beginning to wonder if they'll ever find anything. They've been searching through the entire surrounding woods and have yet to find anything useful. Arthur is starting to consider giving up soon when Leon calls out. Hope blossoming in his chest, he runs over with the other knights to see what it is Leon has found.

"Footprints," he says, pointing at the ground. There are just faint traces of disturbed dirt and leaves with one or two distinct footprints visible. They carefully follow them a little farther into the woods, until suddenly the tracks disappear altogether. Arthur curses under his breath as he accepts the fact that they lost their only lead.

"Hang on," Gwaine says, "look back here." He backs up on the trail a few steps. "See? Some of them break off here."

Arthur follows him in the direction of the new tracks, until they stop as well; this time, however, he spots something up ahead. He carefully walks up to whatever is on the ground, and finds that there are some short ropes lying in amongst the leaves.

"Is it my imagination," he says to the knights as they come up from behind him, "or are these the perfect length for tying hands together?"

They don't answer, but he knows they are in agreement. Percival crouches down to pick one up, but pauses as he begins to reach for it. Instead his hand changes direction and picks up a small stick that was lying on top of some leaves.

"Arthur," he says, turning to hand it to the king. Arthur takes the twig from him with a confused look, which clears when he sees what about it caught Percival's attention. One end is covered in dirt… and blood.

Percival calls his name again, and Arthur looks down to find him pushing the leaves away to uncover something. In the dirt, there is something carved, a number of lines, or…

Arthur's mind goes blank for a second as he sees it fully. He tilts his head slightly, thinking, it can't be… but it is. It's messy and somewhat hard to read, but he can tell exactly what it's supposed to be.

"What is it?" asks Gwaine, sounding confused. "Is that a word?"

After a moment, Arthur clears his throat. "It says 'prat'."

"And there's more specks of blood next to it," says Percival from his crouched position.

They all ponder this for a moment in silence, before Gwaine speaks up.

"Well, obviously this is a message from Merlin."

"But what is the message?" Leon replies.

They all fall silent again, thinking, until Arthur quietly responds.

"The blood," he says.

The other knights stare at him, waiting for an elaboration, but Arthur is already looking around, scanning the trees nearby until he finds what he's looking for.

"There, see?" he points to a mark on a tree. "Blood smeared on the bark. And… here's another one, farther away."

The knights get up and follow him, catching on to what he's saying. They start searching for large rocks and trees with blood stains. Sometimes they find small specks, and other times they encounter obvious smears, as though someone had pressed a bleeding hand against the surfaces, which is exactly what Arthur figures was Merlin's plan. _The idiot must have stabbed himself_, he thinks, exasperated and yet proud of his manservant. They continue to follow the bloodstains into the woods, and although he knows it can't be entirely healthy to lose this much blood, Arthur prays that they keep appearing.

* * *

Merlin pinches his own arm, trying to keep himself awake. Ever since he found out that the men were considering killing him, he realized that he must remain conscious and on guard. However, after over a day and a half, he finds that this is harder than it seems; with an already low supply of energy, his body is yearning to rest, to relax for any period of time and let go. Not to mention how he would love to be able to stop thinking. Thinking only hurts and betrays him, and he would give anything to be able to lay down his head and close his eyes for a while, to end the pain and fear. But since he cannot sleep without becoming vulnerable, he focuses all his thoughts on staying awake and trying to monitor the activities of the camp. It has been working for the most part up until now, when the fires are burning comfortably and the camp is quiet. Not much is happening, and the men are all sleeping; Merlin in turn finds his eyes drooping with the lack of anything to interest him. It is almost painful now for him to hold them open, but he tries to do so with a valiant effort, using what little strength he has left to keep his eyes from unfocusing and closing. But everyone other than the guards have all lain down to sleep, and there is barely any movement aside from the occasional leaping flames of the fires. That is how Merlin finds himself allowing his eyes to close for a moment, just to rest, just to make it easier to hold them open tomorrow. After all, nothing is happening worth watching right now, and if anything should happen, he will hear it… yes, he can listen for a while instead of watching… give his eyes a break… he will open them again later...

Later, he does not remember sleeping. He does not remember thinking or dreaming or waking up. All he knows is that one moment he is lying in his cage trying to stay awake in the dark of night, and the next, he is suddenly being dragged rather roughly across the ground and there is too much noise and too much light and he can't figure out where he is or what's happening.

He is terrified.

It is all happening too fast.

He tries to struggle, but he is weak and stiff and his head hurts. He barely manages to tug his arm, but the arms that grip him are much larger and stronger, impossibly stronger. He tries again anyway, dragging his feet and pulling away, but in response he is hit on the head with something incredibly hard and he finds that he can no longer feel his legs enough to move them.

Finally, Merlin is thrown down on his knees, his hands still tied securely behind his back. He is dazed, and the world is spinning sickeningly. He feels as though he may vomit and his limbs are all stiff and painful. He thinks he ought to move, look around, send a snarky comment at his tormentors, but all he can do is stay kneeling with his eyes squinting against the bright sun. He waits for the dizziness to subside, and dimly thinks that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to struggle.

A few seconds later, he begins to register the voices sounding around him, loud and rough on his ears. He realizes a man is walking towards him, although he is not sure what it was that alerted him; his senses are all mixed up, and he is unable to fully differentiate between sounds and feelings and smells and vibrations and which it is that he is noticing. But suddenly he hears another round of loud voices and a particular sound which cannot be mistaken. The slice of a blade sliding out of its sheath is a sound he has many times before, and yet it cuts right through his confusion and allows him a brief moment of clarity.

This is it. This is the end. They will kill him now, at any moment, and he is defenseless.

He tries to call up his magic, at least the instinctual part if nothing else, but finds that he can barely recall how. The lack of food and rest and general movement have taken a toll on his body, and he can feel his head throbbing from the blow he took. He is terrified by how little control he has, how vulnerable he has become. _Some powerful sorcerer you are_, taunts a voice in his mind. _One blow to the head and you can't even remember how to use magic_. It sounds like Arthur.

Arthur.

It occurs to Merlin that now he will never be able to tell Arthur the truth. He will never know how Arthur would have reacted, never know if he would forgive him. He will never get to apologize. And not just to Arthur, but to everyone. He is about to die, and he will never get to see anyone he cares about ever again. The unfairness of it hurts him. They might not be overly upset about his death, but he would at least like to say goodbye, even if it is a selfish wish. And who will protect them when he's gone? What if something happens to Arthur and he's not there to help?

Everything is too much. Merlin closes his eyes to suppress the pain. He's not a coward, but right now, he does not wish to watch his own death. He barely flinches as he feels the executioner approach. He tries to make the most of his last moments by focusing on everything, listening for every sound, feeling every vibration under his burning knees, smelling every scent possible; he feels his body tremor slightly in fear, and so he focuses his attention completely on the blood dripping down his neck, the throbbing of his head, the blood pounding impossibly loudly in his ears. He must not think. He will not flinch. He is scared, but he will not show it. He is nothing, but he wants a respectful death. A death he will not be ashamed of. After everything he has been through, he at least deserves a little dignity as he is cast from the world.

Merlin doesn't want to die.

This occurs to him very suddenly. It also occurs to him very late. Too late. There's no time for a plan, no time to do anything. He wishes he could change things. It hits him suddenly how much he wants to keep living. He's never felt so useless.

Will it hurt?

He doesn't want to die. He can't die. It's not fair.

He doesn't want to.

If he was listening more closely to the yelling around him, he might notice the angry, war-like cry rising slightly above the rest; as it is, the overwhelming fear and internal chaos rages on inside of him, drowning out all outside noise, and he waits in pain for the slice of a blade.

* * *

**A/N: Well, that was fun but a little difficult to write. I hope it wasn't too fast or confusing, but by this point Merlin has lost a bit of blood, been deprived of food, water and sleep, and been forced to sit in a tiny space for a long time without stretching; by the time they drag him out and whack him on the head, I think it would be hard to do anything much less escape. So I did the best I could to convey his hopelessness and fear, even if it seems OOC or overly dramatic. I hope it was alright otherwise.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**- SwitzD**


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